


Sensitivity

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Masturbation, a paul mccartney smut book i, i love him so much brotjdns, i was bored, paul is hot and bothered, paul’s a slut, pillow humping, smut??, so this may have turnt into a smut book, use of a dildo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Paul helps himself into a solo masturbation session after a press conference.





	1. Sensitive

**Author's Note:**

> this is short, but do enjoy. i might make more of these, i’m not sure.

Paul wasn’t a fool when it came to his body doing purposeful disastrous things to him. For example, a clearly distinctive hard-on bulging through his trousers. A hot flushed mess he transformed into, under the duration of several minutes. During the press conference the Beatles had to particularly attend, the two moist hands that were latched tightly upon Paul’s thighs began to tremor. Various breaths hitched in Paul’s throat, heat pulsing through his veins as the others answered the questions without a problem. George took a lingering glance over towards his older friend, a vindictive smile unfurling across his face. 

Soon after the press conference was conveniently placed into an end, Paul rushed towards the exit first before anyone else. The neglected sensation in between his legs began heating up ever so expeditiously, and his face scrunched up into a frown. As his body was pressed against John’s, the body heat John was unknowingly setting off made stupendous shivers rack up Paul’s form. After routinely squeezing his leg, running his hand up and down his thigh for comforting sorts, his body reacted to it in a way Paul envied. None of the boys knew what condition the second youngest Beatle was in, and how badly he needed release. 

Paul threw open the door to his apartment, and closed it just as fast. Time seemed to freeze as the man disrobed himself, leaving fragments of his clothing on the floor. Paul took in a ragged breath, and bursted into his bedroom down the hallway located on the right side of the hall. Paul glances around hungrily as if he was looking for something; which he indeed was. Desperately willing to find it, he slid open his drawer and removed the tools needed for his own fitted release. 

“Fucking yes,” Paul spat to himself breathlessly, picking up the lubricant and a newly bought dildo for emergencies resembling Paul’s recent situation. Making his way over to the bed, almost tripping over his own footing, the dark haired man sat down and laid onto his backside. Chest heaving, and sweat beginning to glisten from the sun rays pouring through the blinds of his bedroom window placed at the side of the room, Paul began to lube up his fingers first with shaking hands. 

Forgetting his whole plan, Paul couldn’t help but to splatter his lubed up hands against his dripping erection. Twisting his hands slowly, he dragged his palm up against the velvety length which made him throw his head back against the bed. Mouth dropping to let various breaths pitch up and down, amongst the breathy noises which already exited his throat, Paul twisted his hand against and spread his fingers lightly. Whilst rotating his hips in fine incomplete and trembling circles, Paul gasped lightly as he unknowingly squeezed his shaft. “Okay, okay, okay—“ Paul consistently breathed, pacing himself as he reached, with both hands over towards the neglected dildo and opened bottle of lubricant. 

Wrapping his fingers around the bottle, and gripping the dildo with his right hand. Which had been shaking profusely, Paul sat up on his elbow as he drenched an appropriate amount of lubricant on the tip of the dildo. For a moment, of stretched out preparation with his two skilled fingers which almost sent him to the edge, more than he already was, Paul gently inched in the rubber dildo inside of him. Paul swallowed down a heavy lump of built up adrenaline, and his eyes fluttered closed while he jabbed it all the way inside until he jolted. 

“Oh my God- Oh!” Paul yelped, his legs buckling which made them fall flat forward as he bucked his hips forward. Paul’s freehand was lifted up to his face, and he began to shove his own fingers into his mouth as he fucked himself. Being delirious off of his built up pleasure, and from edging himself — Paul was literally spent, suckling on his index and middle finger to hide his broken moans. Paul lifted his legs up, and arched them towards his chest as he shifted himself so that his arms won’t get as tired from the position he had been in before. 

Paul laid literally broached, his eyes half lidded and set a-glazed at morning in particular, his cock red, throbbing and itching to be touched. Along with his tight and heaving chest, plus his tired jaw from sucking so explicitly on his fingers, along with the saliva drawling down the corners of his mouth to add onto his finger sucking. Paul arched his back as his prostate was positively intruded by, his eyebrows furrowed and a weak whimpered left out from the depths of his throat. Pulling his fingers out, along with the dildo, the young man hurriedly rolled over so that he was on his stomach and grasped at the pillow he never used whilst sleeping on the bed. 

After grasping the pillow, and lifting his lower half up to settle the pillow underneath him. Paul laid his upper body against his left forearm as his right hand adjusted the pillow against him, and he began to slowly move his hips up forwards to the back. Literally, he was grinding against the pillow, jaw dropped and his eyes closed as he reached his hand out to crimp the sheets up into his fist. His lower half was burning, and his stomach was tightened along with every muscle in his body as the soft texture of the pillow rutted against his shaft. 

Throwing his head forward, Paul lifted one hand up against his mouth, beginning to bite down onto the side of his thumb as he sped up. Mouth watering moans exited his mouth, which made he, himself even more aroused causing his body to tremble violently. “Hmph, mmph J-John.” In the meantime, Paul’s thoughts began to grow more into John land which would usually happen when he was enveloped like this. Paul was at first disgusted with it, but afterwards it mentally became his dirty little secret in which only he could know of. 

Paul hips suddenly went rigid, and he let out a ragged breath feeling himself spill against the bed sheets and pillow. After seconds of trying to find his breaths, Paul’s eyes began to get heavier among the few breathless seconds that passed by. Ignoring the yearning for sleep, Paul lifted both hands up to his face and watched as they trembled uncontrollably in front of his face. Due to over sensitively, Paul stayed in the same position for over seven minutes before finally getting up to clean himself. 

•••


	2. Phone calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul calls John in desperate need for help.

Paul withered against the sheets of his bed, cock drenched in oil dripping from the fleshlight he purchased at a sex store earlier in the day. John questioned him why he had bought it, and Paul aimlessly mentioned that whenever Jane was not around, he put it in use. Discreetly and under his breath as he watched as the man walked away from him, he added whenever John was not around either. With a shaky, wet breath Paul groaned softly as the mushed sound of the fleshlight enveloping his shaft, and plopping out sensually, racked his body. 

Paul embed his teeth into the cloth of his dress shirt, eyes tightly closed as his hips bucked in desperate need. Breathing through his nose, Paul pulled the sex toy away and replaced the fleshlight with his shaking palm, yanking his hand up and down, oh so delicately. Paul winged out a light gasp, twisting his hand as he dipped his fingers into the sheets and grasped them tightly into his hand to twist. 

"Fuck- Oh-," Paul breathlessly groaned, swirling his hips as he sat up on the elbow of his free arm to watch as he thrust his hips up against his hand. His eyes fluttered closed so elegantly, hand uncontrollably jerking upwards to squeeze around the tip of his cock before dropping back down to the base. "Hm," Paul grunted, feeling a pleasured nerve being pulled as he dropped back down on his backside. The man had then covered his mouth with his palm, biting down on his middle finger as he shifted around whilst twisting his cock in his palm.

Something was missing, he needed one more push so that he'd fully crack open. After a moment of lazily wanking himself, edging hisself to the point where he would have to take one minute breaks to keep the overstimulation down, Paul drew in a breath as his mind flashed a needed image of John Lennon. Nude, on top of him, beneath him, John's legs were spread or it was John nesting in between Paul's legs. The sight could have been the final push, but Paul needed John's voice, he needed to hear the vibrations of the rumbling liverpool accent that Paul so idly adored. 

Reluctantly releasing himself, Paul sat up and almost fell back once he realized all of bones in his body had seemed to melt into a pleasure filled liquidation. Paul crawled over towards the neglected phone, placed upon his nightstand and shakily dialed John's number. Brushing his hand against the shaft of his cock, while the phone rang, Paul let out a trembling moan just from the sheer excitement of awaiting a answer from John. The phone was eventually picked up, and in did the voice come from through the other line. "Hello?" 

"John- it's Paul-" The younger man breathed, and shifted his position so that he was laying on his backside. Once again his hands were working their way up and down his shaft, squeezing the head of his cock as he arched his back up off of the bed. "Oh God," Paul accidentally gasped, which came out more as an incoherent sob. 

"Paul? Are you okay son?" John gently asked while chuckling throughout his sentence, he had placed the newspaper he was reading on the island table in the middle of his kitchen. After a minute, he leant against the side of the counter and smirked in amusement at the breathy sounds Paul made through the other line. 

"Talk- talk to me Johnny, talk dirty to me." Paul begged, twisting his lower half around as he jerked himself relentlessly. Consistently, he began to edge himself not wanting to cum without John's words caressing his body, wrapping around his mind. John rested against the counter for a minute, before pushing himself off to retreat to his own bedroom. "Got ahead of yourself didn't you Macca? You naughty boy, I bet you already made a mess all over yourself." 

The sound of Paul's breath hitching sent an exotic shiver down John's spine, but Paul must have been too far along for him to get started. As John crawled slowly onto his own bed, he continued to edge Paul on after being encouraged from the sensitive moans leaving out of his lips through the other side of the phone. "Maybe that's why you bought that fleshlight, not for Jane but to fulfill your own dirty activities." 

Paul was so close, his eyes were watering with tears of overstimulation as he pushed himself more to the edge. "Oh- tell me what you'd do to me, if- if you were here." Paul shakily whispered, his naturally silk voice dripping with extreme arousal which made him sound almost unrecognizable to John. 

John licked his lips, closing his eyes as he pictured Paul vividly — imaging his fingers thrusting inside of that incredibly tight hole of his. "I'd have both of your wrists tied up with metal chains, maybe oil you down and give those cute pink nipples of yours a squeeze. Or maybe something more dangerous, like shocking your nipples so you could feel the chill of electricity soar through you. Afterwords, I'll turn you over and start feeling up that body of yours—"

Paul's breath hitched lightly, and John heard a long dragged out gasp. A signal that Paul was extremely close, and with a few more encouraging words from John he'd finally cum. "Just imagine my hand wrapped around that pretty neck of yours, while I fuck you onto the mattress. I use your cum as lubricant as I take you for the fifth time, and you'll lose all feeling on your lower half. Your legs will be bruised, my name would be symbolically engraved into your thighs and I'll cum so much inside of you, it'll drip down from your arse to the sheets." John couldn't help but smirk at the lewd groan that escaped Paul's lips, along with the sounds of shuffling. 

"John- oh my God!" 

"Macca likes that does he? He likes when I fuck him so hard he can't even get up."

"I-I'm so- I'm so-"

John's erection was generally prominent, and his own breathing became laboured as he drowned in the river of soft moans. Nevertheless, he ignored the aching feeling and put all his focus on an over sensitively horny Paul Mccartney. "Just let it out Paul, cum for me, make a mess all over yourself." 

Paul listened closely, making out half broken mains that hit at his ceiling. Finally, strings of hot white cum began to spurt out of Paul's member, splattering onto his stomach and mid stomach. Paul dug the heels of his feet into the bedding, head thrown back against the pillow as his chest heaved erratically. John listened, teeth embedding into the sensitive skin of his bottom lip as he fluttered his eyes closed to listen to Paul pant breathlessly. 

Paul laid spent for several minutes, before raising his hand to lick up the residue of his own release. “You’re a saviour Johnny,” Paul had then muttered, while he trembled a bit from the aftershocks jolting up his body. 

John chuckled breathlessly, “There’s nothing I can’t do for you Macca.”


	3. Edging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so maybe this is a paul mccartney smut book?? cksakkdg enjoy

Pressing the pads of his finger tips down on the zipper of his onesie, Paul silently drew it down and parted his lips immediately at the cold air that touched his bare-skin. Fluttering his eyes closed, Paul began to oscillate his calloused hand against his chest and abdomen, relaxing an audible exhale of exhilaration from the relaxing touch. Hoisting a leg up, Paul began to draw his hand down lower towards the waistband of his underwear and teasingly finger his finger tips against the band.

Paul suddenly opened his eyes, remembering that it was the beginning of November and he refused to break himself, especially it being the fifth day of the bloody month. Zipping his onesie back up, Paul has then turnt over and positioned himself so that he was laying leisurely on his stomach. The man sighed, exhaustedly hooking one arm under the pillow and having the other curled up against his chest. The sound of his heart beat penetrating his chest, and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins weren’t easy to genuinely ignore throughout the night. Paul told himself that he could manage. 

The next morning Paul woke up with a hard wood, tented pompously against the cloth of his onesie. Paul shamelessly brushed his fingers against the hardened shaft, whisking his other hand upwards to unzip the onesie once again to hook his hand down to the neglected erection. Paul recycled the thought of breaking the rules of ‘No wank, November’ and having to convey fifty pounds to Ringo Starr after a bet they made. 

Paul was drunk on keen temptation, brewing up his arousal enough for his breath to shudder within each intake of oxygen. The way his own hand began to work his cock, whisking and rotating; up, down, up down. Paul’s back arched, and his other wondrous hand founds its way up his stomach — nails pressing excessively into his own vanilla creamed colored skin. Walls caved in delightedly, and Paul found himself coaxing his own soft moans out from in between those plump, luscious, inviting lips. 

Thrusting his pelvis forward, Paul crooned his neck back into the pillow whilst his cock throbbed in the warmth of his palm. In his mind, this time he wasn’t thinking of his beloved John, however he was thinking of just a random pair of hands snaking all over his body. Intruding, gripping, scratching, overpowering each rigid joint that Paul could have, and marking it as its territory. The hands belonged to know one, they just appeared there, playing with him and running the pad of its thumb provokingly against his bottom lip. 

Paul has his eyes closed once again, moans becoming a hysterical babble of praises to no one in particular. With a twist of his limbs, and his lower half so that he could try to escape his own clutches, Paul gaped with his eyes widened from the overstimulation of pleasure he widely embraced. 

A few seconds of shifting around, thrashing himself against the sheets of the bed, a single; _“Oh God,”_ left briskly out of his mouth. Paul’s breaths had hitched, and his thumb began to unconsciously rub against the rim of the head of his cock. Removing the clear strings of precum settled at tip of his throbbing cock, promoting that he was close to release, Paul gave himself a mental pat on the back. 

The hands had seemed to hold his hips down, refusing for Paul to move anymore than he had already did. Breathlessly, near the edge, Paul hesitantly removed his hands from around the shaft of his cock and placed them onto his trembling thigh. The way he had seemed to throb, and pulsate made Paul bite down harshly on his rosy bottom lip while trying to control his breath. For a few seconds that had passed; Paul let his hand once again, wrap around his shaft and _jerk up, down, up down. _

Face flushed, chest heaving, and forehead coated with sweat; Paul dropped his jaw, slinging his head backwards as his chest heaved. Paul’s waist guided itself up and down, fucking himself into his palm before once again feeling as if it was all too much. 

•••


	4. Paul the whore

John woke up to relentless pounding on his door, startled but curious enough, the man had got up from the couch he was sitting in. After closing his book, slowly setting it aside on the table in front of the door that held a vase of blooming roses, John wrapped his hand around the doorknob. After opening the door, he barely had time to comprehend what was happening a pair of plush, pouty and plumped lips rammed into his thin ones. John let out a strangled sound of surprise, eyes widening in slight panic at what was unfolding for the past few seconds.

Placing his hands on the shoulder of whom his lips were attacked by, John’s eyes widened as he caught the sight of a desperate and disheveled Paul Mccartney. “Paul? What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” John asked, with his voice laced with a tinge of arousal at the sultry gaze he seemed to have been drowning in from the lust-filled hazel orbs melting into his body. 

“I need to shag somebody.” Paul bluntly said, the hoarseness in his voice and the saliva coated lips already meant something to John. 

The older raised his eyebrow, “Seems like you’ve already done that, your bloody pants are not even all the way up.” 

Paul immediately shook his head, the slightly shaggy dark brown hair swaying elegantly as he let out a tired laugh. “Doesn’t matter, I cant get enough.” 

“You’re a troubled one Mccartney.” 

Paul shuddered, and lifted his head up so that he could peer up at John through the lusciously long eyelashes. Moving his hands up and under the hem of John’s shirt to explore the soft, tender, pale skin that felts so warm under Paul’s slightly cold hands. John couldn’t help but to tremble, exhaling through his nose before reaching his hand up to Paul’s reddened cheek and caressing it affectionately. “I’ll supply you with your needs nonetheless.” John muttered softly, as he leaned forward, colliding their lips together elegantly while he drew an arm around Paul’s waist. With a lingering whine, the younger man shifted. 

Backing up towards his bedroom, Paul had nonchalantly rid of both his and John’s clothing whilst they kissed their ways into his bedroom. Once the back of John’s knees hit the bed, sending both of them spiraling down onto the way-too-expensive sheets, Paul straddled John’s hips and dug his nails into the skin. John moaned into Paul’s mouth, hands firmly placed upon Paul waist which made a shaky breath result from the possessive squeeze he gave. As their lips rid against each other, John shifted their positions so that Paul was planted on his backside and pinned down by the hand placed upon his chest. 

John slowly drew the already unbuckled pants down the slim legs of Paul, causing the younger to impatiently thrash around against the bed, almost kicking the heel of his socked foot against the jaw of John. “Fuck me already, ya cock’s already small, there’s no need to be a cocky majestic shit.” 

John winged his hand back, slapping Paul across the face which had withdrew a hitched gasp from the younger underneath him. “I’ll go in the pace I feel like going in you slut.” 

The way Paul slowly turnt his face forward, after it being instantly twisted to the side from the slap, sent a massive shiver down John’s spine that transported straight to his cock. Paul bit his bottom lip, half lidded eyes boring into John’s as he relished contentedly in the harsh slap he received. John held the tense gaze as he spread Paul’s legs apart erotically, running his palm against the soft hairs ingrown on the legs and inner thighs of Paul Mccartney. John greedily glanced down at the erected cock, eyes twinkling in astonishment at Paul’s uncharacteristic trait of not having underwear on. Was he _that_ horny? 

John began to pull down his own drainpipes, along with his underwear and began to get up to retrieve lubricant. Paul immediately snagged John back, pulling the older on top of him; “I’m already prepped, Ringo made sure of that.” Paul seductively purred, a smirk growing onto his face at the awestruck expression pouring over John Lennon’s face. 

“Jesus Macca,” John breathlessly exhaled, leaning in to smash his lips against Paul’s once again which made moans coax out of both of them. Paul could be the most unlikely whore anyone could know, but he was unstoppable once provoked into doing anything related to sex. 

•••


	5. Let it be (sexxions)

— May 15th 1969

Paul ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, bass in his lap with his left hand lazily holding onto the neck of the guitar. Seconds passed with numerous unnecessary comments being passed around back and forth from John to George, including Yoko in some bitter parts. Although her name was mentioned, the woman had just sat there with her lips firm and eyes down to her fiddling fingers. 

Paul’s left leg began to move on its own, bobbing up and down as he seemed to bounce his feet against the floor. The turtle neck he was wearing seemed to tighten around his throat, and sweat beads began to form on his forehead. The feeling, the bittersweet fucking feeling that would disappear and come back every few weeks had seemed to reappear in full swing. His hard-on pressed keenly against the side of his bass which was gracefully digging into his crotch, the oversensitive wave of arousal washed over him entirely. “Oh God,” He breathlessly whimpered, burying his face into his palm and closing his eyes for a few seconds. 

“You alright Paul?” 

Paul opened one eye, looking up to see Ringo genuinely concerned about Paul’s wellbeing. This had seemed to happen more often than not; this, being of Ringo being concerned over Paul through this hormonal emo teenage girl period of the Beatles. Paul was far away from his normal self, and at all times Ringo would be scared for his mental health, sometimes George would check in on Paul to see if he was doing well, depending on if Paul was not as bossy as he usually is that day. John would mentally check in, not showing it but sharing a small array of glances over towards the younger’s direction to see if anything abnormal was happening. 

“Yes’m fine.” Paul said, soft voice muffled and lowed in case he accidentally moaned which would have caused a title wave of an embarrassment to wash over him. 

He needed to get off on something, he needed someone to help him get off but he did not know who. Linda was out of town, and to add onto that unfortunate mishap; the way he needed release is for something else much more erotic. Paul clambered off of the chair, willing to distract himself by mixing his mind up with something else, attempting to ignore the ever growing erection in his black trousers. George cleared his throat, looking up and brushing the bangs of his long, shaggy hair out of his face to stare up from his guitar over at Paul to see what he was doing. 

“Working on this song or not? Where are you going?” John sharply asked, voice filled with protruding annoyance that irked George to his fullest. 

“So annoying.” George muttered to himself, getting up onto his feet and setting down his guitar. John shot him a glare, before softening it as George dismissively walked passed him and followed Paul silently. 

Paul opened the door to Abbey Roads bathroom, hands trembling and eyes becoming glazed with overwhelming lust for no one in particular. The last person he wanted to have sex with was John, especially from how he had been acting towards him earlier. Paul leant against the bathroom sink, both hands placed firmly against the sink and his breath ghosting against the mirror. As Paul glanced up at his reflection, he gasped gently at the sight of him. His eyes were half lidded, and his cheeks were flushed a deep crimson red. The sight of George behind him also shocked him to the fullest. 

The older turnt around, facing George who only stared in plain disbelief. “You’re horny aren’t you? How did you pop one during recording?” 

“Just happens.” Paul shallowly said, chest heaving after not even being touched yet. 

George has only registered a understanding blink, and began to smirk while he clasped his hands behind his backside. “I’ll jerk you off if you let my song on the album, and I won’t tell anyone.” 

“I- no- Linda would-” 

“Linda’s not here Paulie. She won’t know, plus she’d understand that Paul was so horny, so desperate for release he was going to pass out.” George strolled towards Paul, backing the man up against the bathroom sink before suddenly grasping at his beard to jerk Paul’s head down and to lean in close to his ear. “Now, hop on that sink and spread those legs like a good boy for me.” 

Paul was too transfixed in the cloud of never ending arousal to argue. Hopping himself up onto the sink, which didn’t creak as it usually would since Paul had deprived himself from eating lately, which seemed to congregate numerous arguments between him and Linda — the man spread his legs to George’s command. George smiled deviously, leaning forward to cup Paul’s cheek in his palm and brush their lips together so passionately, adding onto affectionately. Paul leaned in for more, wanting dominance so badly but failing to cooperate with himself from the strain of dignity he had already with the thin strand of hope he had for the band. 

George’s tongue unhesitatingly brushed against Paul’s, igniting a sinful moan from the depths of both of their throats. Paul cried out into George’s mouth as George hand seemed to sneakily worm it’s way into Paul’s trousers, palming his illuminating length that seemed to have soaked itself with precum. George pulled away, blinking in brief astonishment at how easily Paul reacted to such small touches and lingering kisses. The way that Paul bucked his hips against George’s hand, and held onto the sink with one hand then George’s shoulder with another. The many dreams George had about this seemed to have came true at this very second. 

“Faster- George please.” Paul breathed, but his mind wasn’t ready for what George had planned next. When the younger pulled away, and placed his hands upon Paul’s waist to pull him forward which had made the sink begin to creak wearily from the persistent movements. George slung Paul’s turtle neck off of him, helping himself to the newly exposed, hot and pale skin that quivered shamelessly under his lips. Paul balance himself, body trembling uncontrollably as George nibbles softly on his sweet spot and how his breathing began to become heavier. 

“Shh Paul.” George pulled away, and ran his hands through Paul’s dark hair before shoving their lips together once again. Paul tilted his head to the side, kissing back with full on force as their tongues dominated each other for the second time. George pulled Paul’s trousers down, along with his own and gathered in between the spread legs, the only blockage of them shagging roughly against the sink is the lack of lubricant but Paul did not care at all. 

“Fuck me, please, George.” He whispered, his voice husky and desperation dripping from his tone. George obliged, holding up his fingers to shove into Paul’s mouth so that a good amount of spit could formulate for a substitute for lubricant. Something that they rarely do, but if they were that desperate then nothing would stop them from fornicating. George pulled his fingers away, watching as strings of saliva slapped against Paul’s bearded chin and the corners of his mouth. ‘Jesus he looked like a fucking renaissance painting,’ George thought to himself, while he eased his fingers inside of Paul which resulted into the older jolting violently against the sink. 

George leaned back into kiss the pout off of Paul’s face, breathing heavily into the kiss as he fucked Paul against the sink with his fingers. The older began to tighten his slim legs around George’s waist, and reach up to grip at the bicep while he threw his head back in overstimulation which had broke the kiss. George scissored his fingers inside of Paul, brushing it against the hidden treasure that he had so easily found. The sink creaked even more as George moved Paul back, which made the actual faucet jab into the older’s lower backside. Paul hooked his legs up and held on tightly to the sink, but the firm grip on his thighs by George’s hand made him keep his balance in check from any movement that needed to be done to get into a comfortable position. 

“I got you, I got you.” George repeated, shifting Paul’s lower half down to his aroused cock even more which had resulted in the back of Paul’s head to knock against the mirror. The older rested his hand on the faucet, and arched his back as George gripped his waist gently. After spitting on the palm of his hand excessively, rubbing it against his shaft repulsively until it began to drip from the head of his cock — Paul squirmed with his lips quivering as his own cock began to throb at the sight. George leaned down to peck his lips as he lined up against Paul’s entrance, gently guiding himself inside of the trembling man underneath him. 

“Oh- oh- George,” Paul rasped, quickly gripping onto the side of the sink as George began to quickly thrust himself inside of Paul. George’s breath began to hitch, unprepared for the enveloping tightness that squeezed around his cock which had resulted in him leaning over to rest his cheek against Paul’s neck. 

John walked towards the bathroom door, leaning himself curiously against the wooden door to hear what was going on. The vaguely familiar sounds of Paul’s moans, and whimpers were the first thing he heard which made all the blood drain from within his body. The sound of George fucking Harrison’s name exiting his lips so freely, so sultry and gentle made John’s gut do a whole 360 in his body. The auburn haired man had then immediately pulled at the handle, ready to interrupt whatever was going on in the bathroom. 

The door was locked. 

John gripped the handle angrily, murmuring to himself. “George Harrison, you fucking square.” 

Meanwhile Paul was unfolding right before George, hand clasping over his mouth as his eyes squeezed shut. George was absolutely astounding, the best shag he ever had within in awhile and it made him almost forget about all the whirlwind of unstoppable troubles claiming his very being, almost. Paul bit down on his hand, eyes becoming teary which made him flutter them open to get a look up at George whose eyes promoted the same emotions. It was at this moment, Paul realized that George had been wanting this for years, he was wanting to have Paul for years but John was always there. 

Paul let out a sob, another wave of pleasure wracking his body as he thought about John. The older man would have been more rougher if it were them two in this situation. John would have had Paul bent over the sink, cheek mushed against the mirror but the same amount of extraneous pleasure hacking his nervous system. 

“You’re so good Paul- j-just like I imagined,” George moaned, threading his fingers tighter against the pale skin, leaving crescent shaped nail prints on Paul’s sharp hip bones due to his lack of eating. 

“I’m- I- I-” Paul unconsciously let out a loud moan, which made George’s lips to swiftly crash into his. Paul’s eyes fluttered uncontrollably as his cock began to spontaneously spurt out strings of cum onto his stomach, in which George pulled away to watch. With the last strand of cum rocketing out, Paul body weight collapsed onto the sink and a breathless shaking laugh exited out his lips as his hands shook from over sensitivity. 

George finished inside of him, arching himself over Paul’s spent body with a breathless gasp while he shook over the other man. “Fuck- fuck- shit.” George breathed, which made Paul laugh even more harder than he could manage and George joined in too. The younger had then helped Paul off of the sink, holding onto him as the younger began to collapse onto the floor from the strong weakness in his legs. 

“Better?” 

Paul looked up at George, and gazed longingly in his eyes before shaking his head. “I need another shag.” 

•••


End file.
